The small dog suffers …

I tap away, I’m in full flow when, from her perch beside me,
The small dog reaches out a paw and touches me to chide me.
“Do you not love me any more? Perhaps you can’t abide me?
Oh, writer dear, it’s ten past five, so why is food denied me?”

I’m barely late with dinner and she’s eaten twice already,
Yet the accusing gaze is as demanding as it’s steady,
“I won’t be long, my girlie, give me just another minute…”
The competition’s on and we both know who’s going to win it.

She puts on the pathetic face, the one that’s never eaten,
Sucks in the cheeks and belly, knowing full well that I’m beaten.
I haven’t really eaten yet, but she’s had treats aplenty…
“Oh writer, only one or two…”, “Oh, small dog, nearer twenty!”